


Always

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Final Fantasy X AU, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Lyanna and the Starks are not related, Magic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-02-04 09:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12767853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: They had told him that the Night King was a punishment for using dragons as weapons in the past. Perhaps he was, perhaps that is why the cycle was never-ending. Every summoner destroys the threat, bringing peace for ten years but then the Night King would return. There had to be some way to end it for good, a way that didn't involve...He glanced at Sansa, the moonlight giving her hair a copper glow. Her face was upturned to the night sky with an expression of wonder and despite the knowledge of what was going to happen, she looked truly happy."Stay with me," she said suddenly, turning to him. Her eyes were bright with determination and Jon longed to tell her he would find another way, that he would protect her. That he loved her. "Until the end...please.""Not until the end," he replied firmly. "Always."She smiled sadly, her fingers threading through his own, her voice barely a whisper."Always then."Based on Final Fantasy X





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancingtink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingtink/gifts).



> So, for those who haven't played Final Fantasy X the brief overview is this.  
> Sin (Nights King in this) is a monster that attacks the world of Spira and it is believed by the citizens that it is a punishment for using Machina (lets say weapons of mass destruction ...like a dragon :p) in their wars. Summoners travel across Spira (Westeros) to the ancient city of Zanarkand (Winterfell) to gain the final summon which basically stops Sin attacking for ten years (known as The Calm). However, Sin always returns and the cycle begins again.  
> Also, for the sake of this, there are no Houses and ruling seats as it were. The places and 'kingdoms' are just normal countries and towns/cities etc. So the Starks are not from Winterfell.  
> Think that is all....

He awoke to a gentle rocking, his head pounding and the taste of ash still in his mouth. His eyes wouldn’t open no matter how much he tried to force them too. Blindly, he flexed his fingers the pads tracing the cool wood beneath him and he frowned.

Was he on a boat?

While he waited for his body to fully awaken and for the strength to open his eyes, he tried to remember what had happened, how he could possibly have ended up here.

He remembered Winterfell falling, covered in ice and blood and the cold winds howling in grief and despair. He remembered the panic of people running in every direction as the threat loomed closer. There were already so many bodies, tripping people and blocking their paths.

He remembered running to the battlements of the keep, hands braced on the cool stone as he looked out upon the land, upon the mass graveyard it had become. And then he had seen it…him…

The pale grey skin pulled taught across his body, long white hair blowing in the winds that seemed to follow him. He wandered amongst the dead around him, seeming unfazed by the destruction he had caused. And then his head whipped up, looking directly at Jon.

He remembered Melisandre grabbing his shoulder and whipping him around, a desperate gleam in her eyes.

“The Nights King,” she had hissed. “He is here for you.”

“Me? Why?” he had asked, voice raising to a yell to be heard over the rising winds.

He remembered how he had stumbled back at the force of it, the roof was coming off the towers, the glass in the windows were shattering in the night. And Jon had thrown his arms out to steady himself only to grab Melisandre’s hand.

“This is your song,” she had whispered.

And then everything went dark, his mind was blank.

He still couldn’t understand how he had ended up on a boat though. But his eyes were starting to flutter at last and he opened them to see the inky black sky above him. He inhaled as he turned his head to look around. Was he a prisoner or had these people helped him?

“You’re awake,” a voice said suddenly. Jon turned his head the other way to see a boy with unruly red hair and sharp blue eyes watching him from where he was perched on a crate. He grinned at Jon, teeth flashing like a wolf.

“Where am I?” Jon asked, wincing at how dry his throat was.

“We’ll ask the questions,” the boy snapped as Jon pulled himself into a sitting position.

“Rickon,” another voice warned.

Jon turned again to see a girl standing in the doorway behind him. One hand was braced on the door, the other on her hip dangerously close to the hilt of her sword that she had attached. Her brown hair was half tied in a messy ponytail, the loose parts falling past her shoulders. Her grey eyes were watching him, a slightly less aggressive look in them than in what Rickon was showing.

“Would you like some water?” she asked eventually.

“Please,” Jon replied before he thought about the risk of it being poisoned.

However, she seemed to know that was what he was thinking as she opened the flask at her hip and took a drag before screwing the cap back on and tossing it onto his lap. Jon’s fingers shook as he twisted the flask open, eyes closing in relief as the cool liquid soothed his throat and cleansed his mouth. He gave a relieved sigh as he lowered the flask again, closing it and sliding it back to the girl.

“I am Arya Stark,” she said eventually, crossing to stand by the crate Rickon was sitting on. “This is my brother Rickon.” Rickon didn’t wave or smile but continued regarding Jon with suspicion.

“Hi,” Jon replied after a moment, unsure of what else to say. “I’m Jon Snow.”

“Where are you from?” Arya asked, folding her arms and leaning back against the crate behind her.

“Winterfell,” Jon answered.

Rickon and Arya exchanged puzzled looks with each other before they turned to look at Jon. He frowned at their confused expressions. Surely, they had heard of Winterfell? It was the capital of the North, it was one of the major places in the continent of Westeros. There was no way they hadn’t heard of it.

“That is impossible,” Arya said after a moment, brow furrowed. “Winterfell was destroyed by the Night King over a thousand years ago.”


	2. Riverrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, its going to be sort of crossover with FFX but not everything is the same. Sansa's guardians aren't going to be the same thing or reasons as Yuna's and I haven't fully decided the aeons. I have ideas for them but not settled on every one of them yet. There are also some things similar in terms of game plot (obviously from the prologue and some scenes in the chapters as they go along). However, while characters in FFX have influenced this, that doesn't mean the characters in this are going to be the same or do the same thing, if that makes sense? And Jon, weeeeelllll, its not exactly like the game either...  
> I'm rambling, I know lol.   
> Sorry for the delay, I have had exams, work, Christmas, New Year and was doing the 12 Days of Shipping Challenge to distract me. But here we are now :)

Jon stared at them in shock.

While he could agree that Winterfell may well have been destroyed by the Night King, from what he could remember from before. He couldn’t accept that it would have been over a thousand years ago. If anything, it could only have been more than two or three days ago, how would he have survived this long otherwise?

“How…what do you mean?” he spluttered, looking between Arya and Rickon. They exchanged another look and Jon practically growled at their raised eyebrows, their unspoken assumption that he was mad. “I am from Winterfell! I was Lord of Winterfell and I was there when the Night King attacked, that wasn’t a thousand years ago! It could only have been mere days ago at most!”

“We found you by the Stony Shore,” Rickon stated, eyes narrowing slightly. “How did you get there if you were at Winterfell?”

Jon gaped, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of how to explain how he could have gotten there. But he didn’t even know himself how that could have happened. Did Melisandre transport him somehow? Did she leave him there, thinking he was dead?

“Oh!” Arya said slowly, a smile of understanding spreading across her face. “Did you get quite close to the Night King?”

“I think so. No, actually, he looked right at me when he attacked and I felt…something weird, like my head was all fuzzy and then Melisandre, a woman at Winterfell grabbed me. That is the last thing I remember,” he replied, frowning as he tried to remember but it was still such a blur.

“That explains it then,” she returned with a simple shrug and turning to give her brother a reassuring smile before she looked back to Jon. “You got too close and he messed up your memories and stuff. You’re lucky that is all he did, not many survive when he attacks! I’m sure your memories will return to you though.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to ask more questions but Rickon suddenly spoke again.

“Don’t tell anyone you’re from Winterfell though!”

“What?”

“You could upset someone. R’hllor declares that it is a sacred place,” Arya explained. “It is the most sacred place in all of Westeros, only summoners and their guardians are allowed to enter it.”

“R’hllor? Summoners?” he repeated blankly, rubbing his knuckles against his temple as he tried to take it all in. Rickon groaned, flopping back on the crate, unashamed at showing his irritation. Arya, though a little less crass did sigh loudly, rubbing her forehead before looking at him again with infuriated pity.

“Seven hells, this is the worst I’ve ever seen the toxin,” she said eventually, hand cupping her chin as she regarded him. “Okay, we’re heading to Riverrun now, hopefully something there will help refresh your memory, or there might be somebody you know there! And if not, there is always Highgarden. Almost everyone gathers there for the grand tourney every year.”

“You at least remember the prayer, right?” Rickon asked, sitting up again. Jon blinked.

“For R’hllor,” Arya prompted when Jon said nothing. Jon blinked again.

“I worship the Gods of the forest,” he explained after a moment of them staring expectantly at him. Arya didn’t bother repressing the slow, exhausted close of her eyes this time.

“Right, the toxin,” she sighed. “Well, it is pretty simple. When you visit the temple, you just kneel and bow your head and say thanks to the Lord of Light. Rickon can show you after we dock.”

“Dock?” Jon questioned. “Where are we going?”

“To Riverrun,” Arya replied simply. “It will take a while to get to Lannisport and from there, we will need to take the river road. You should rest in the meantime.”

Jon scoffed. As if he could sleep when there were so many unanswered questions running through his mind.

***

He was mostly silent for the remainder of the journey as they got into the rowing boats and made their way along the river. Jon frowned at the passing scenery as if something would help him recall his memory, help explain what was going on. He could see Arya and Rickon continuously exchange glances and then look at him when they thought he couldn’t see, as though they thought he was going to say something else completely delusional to them.

Jon didn’t have a clue what was happening either. He could not remember a damn thing other than the Night King approaching Winterfell, looking up at him and then Melisandre grabbing him before it all went dark.

He wondered if anyone else survived the attack on Winterfell, his master of arms, the stablemaster. His hand, Arthur Dayne. He grimaced at the thought. Arthur had always been like a father to him in a way, he was certainly the only father figure Jon had ever accepted, his own father disappearing for long periods of the time. Whenever Rhaegar Targaryen bothered to come home, he would tell Jon he was doing everything wrong.

Rhaegar had charm though, everyone seemed to love him. Jon though, Jon couldn’t tell anymore if he had ever loved his father or not.

“Will Sansa be out by the time we get there?” Rickon asked softly, so low Jon almost didn’t hear him. He glanced at them, watching Arya shrug as she rowed next to her brother.

“She’ll be fine either way. Robb and Brienne are with her,” she said after a moment but Jon noticed how she was scowling ahead of her in a sudden mood. Whoever this Sansa person was, there was clearly something about her bothering Arya.

“I wonder what aeon she will have,” Rickon continued.

“Aeon?” Jon questioned before he could stop himself. Arya’s frown deepened as she glanced at him and then at her brother.

“Aeons are spirits of people who gave their lives to defeat the Night King,” she explained gently. “If a person becomes a summoner, they can speak with the spirits, or the fayth, in the temples and be granted an aeon that they can call upon for aid to fight the Night King.”

“Right,” Jon said although it just seemed to give him more questions. “So, Sansa, was it? She is a summoner?”

“She is in the temple at Riverrun right now, praying to become a summoner. If the fayth allow it, she will be granted her first aeon and she will officially become a summoner in the eyes of R’hllor,” Rickon answered. Jon opened his mouth to ask how one person could expect to take on the Night King alone when Arya spoke, her head tilting slightly to something behind Jon.

“And there is Riverrun!”

Jon turned, eyes widening at the sight of the sandstone walls rising high above the water. It was a small keep but there was a grandeur to it, a feeling of magnificence. He glanced at the towers on either side of the shore with interest. It seemed they were a well-protected keep as well, he thought absently.

“We were born here,” Rickon said suddenly as they pulled the boat towards a wide arch and a large, iron portcullis. Jon’s eyes rose to the battlements, only half listening to what the boy behind him was saying as he remained in awe of the castle before him.

As they passed through the gates and into the keep, Arya stood and tied the boat to a large iron ring on the wall. As soon as it was steady, Jon leapt from the boat quickly. He needed to stretch his legs properly. He hadn’t been moving properly since… since whatever had happened. Arya, Rickon and the few men with them joined him quickly.

“This way,” Arya commanded, leading him up the stairs.

As they came up into the castle, he heard the ringing of steel and paused, edging towards the nearest window to look down into the courtyard.

There were four men down there, practicing their swordplay. One, a large muscular man with dark hair falling into his face seemed to be doing better than all the others. Jon admired the strength in his offensives, the way he dodged and turned away from his attackers. Arya appeared beside him, hands on the windowsill as she looked down at the scene as well.

“Gendry fights better with a hammer really,” she commented lightly, pointing to the man Jon was watching.

“He is pretty good with a sword too,” Jon said simply. Arya glanced at him for a brief second.

“Go down and show them your skills if you want,” she stated gently. “I will get some chambers assigned for you in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Jon replied, tearing his eyes away from the fighting below.

“Arya, can we go and see if Sansa is out?” Rickon pleaded, dancing from one foot to the other as he kept looking behind him and then back at Arya. His sister sighed, closing her eyes briefly before giving a small nod.

“Let me sort out some rooms for Jon and then we can go and see,” she promised. Jon frowned at the smile Arya presented her brother, it seemed entirely too false to him. But then she turned away from him, an arm around her brother as they set off down the corridor.

Jon looked back down at the practice session below him. It would good to get a sword back in his hand, he supposed, stretch the muscles and get some energy back. He made his way along the corridor to the stairs that led down into the courtyard.

“Can I join you?” he asked, looking to the master-at-arms.

The man gave Jon a long glance from head to toe. The four men stopped what they were doing, looking at him with interest.

“Of course,” the dark-haired man stated after a moment, moving towards him and thrusting a hand towards him. “Gendry Waters.”

“Jon Snow.”

“Shall we?” Gendry asked, stepping back and swinging his sword idly. Jon nodded, taking the sword that the master at arms passed him. He noticed the smirk on his face, the amused looks Gendry’s previous sparring partners were exchanging with each other. Gendry had obviously gained a reputation for fighting.

But Jon had grown up with a sword in his hand almost as soon as he could walk. He was swift and nimble, easily more graceful than Gendry although the latter certainly had more strength. Still, Jon held his own as he blocked and dodged Gendry’s attacks with easy speed and grace.

A crowd had started to gather around them as they moved across the open space. Gendry moved forward, a feral grunt passing his lips as he launched at Jon, who twisted his body at the last second, turning and pressing the sword gently to the back of Gendry’s neck.

“Enough,” the master at arms called.

Jon stepped away instantly, panting as the sword fell from his hands. Gendry was panting too as he turned to regard him, his eyes wide with wonder and amusement.

“You’re good,” he commented brightly. “Who trained you?”

“Ser Rodrik at Winterfell,” Jon answered instantly.

The whole courtyard went silent and Jon gave a nervous glance as the people started to whisper. Gendry frowned, one hand reaching up to run through his hair.

“Where did you say?” he asked gently. Jon swallowed, remembering what Arya and Rickon had said about Winterfell being a sacred place and not to say anything about being from there.

“I…I was close to the Night King,” Jon explained and immediately the tension seemed to evaporate. Gendry gave him a sympathetic nod.

“Ah, the toxin got to you then,” he said. Jon shrugged slightly. He wasn’t sure what he should say anymore. Still, as Gendry turned and went to go inside, Jon stepped after him.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, chancing a look over his shoulder. Gendry hummed, raising an eyebrow for him to continue. “Winterfell….it was destroyed over a thousand years ago, wasn’t it?”

He had known Gendry would say yes, no matter how much he had hoped otherwise.

“The Night King is the punishment for using dragons in war,” he replied. “Winterfell was a large keep once and they had dragons, like almost every keep in Westeros did. Dragons trained for war, for killing. The Night King came to destroy the keeps which were involved in it and Winterfell was one of them. That would be about a thousand years ago right enough.”

Jon paled, watching as Gendry continued walking down the hall, laughing to himself about Ser Rodrik from Winterfell.

Gendry, Arya and Rickon had all said the same thing. And the people in the courtyard had been afraid when he had mentioned Winterfell. That would match what Arya and Rickon had warned him about Winterfell being a sacred place. They couldn’t all be lying, he thought miserably. 

"Jon!" Arya called, dodging between the people to approach him. "I have some chambers ready for you. Come get some rest."

"Arya!" someone called out. Jon turned at the same time as Arya as an elderly man made their way towards them, stopping just in front of Arya and bowing to her.

"Vyman," Arya greeted, taking a moment to bow her head in acknowledgement. "What is it?"

"It is the Lady Sansa," he replied, clutching his red robes close with trembling fingers. "She still hasn't emerged from the temple and it has been almost two days!"


	3. The Summoner

Jon followed Arya inside the keep where Rickon came bounding out of a room to join them. Arya waved her hand impatiently as Rickon bounded around her, asking about Sansa.

“She’ll be fine!” Arya snapped eventually, whirling around to glare at her brother as they stopped outside what he presumed to be his new rooms.

“But, you heard him. It has been two days!” Rickon replied, stepping in front of Arya and blocking her path as she attempted to open the door.

“Isn’t she your sister?” Jon asked, scratching his head in confusion. Arya narrowed her eyes at him.

“The toxin is making you confused,” she stated simply. “Don’t get involved in things that don’t concern you.” She opened the door, gesturing inside the room. “Here, these will be your chambers for tonight.”

Jon frowned as she turned and left him. He looked back at Rickon as the young boy scuffed his feet against the floor and a deep scowl appeared on his face.

“Hey,” Jon said suddenly and Rickon glanced up at him. “Where is that temple?”

Rickon stared at him for a long moment before he sighed, glancing behind him.

“Through the woods to the gardens,” he replied, nodding his head in the direction they had just came from. “It was the Sept once, centuries ago.”

Jon turned, heading purposely back down the corridor towards the steps that led to the courtyard. He heard Rickon call after him and then his footsteps thundering against the stone as he ran to catch up, stepping in front of Jon to block his path with outstretched hands.

"You can't go in there!" he hissed, moving in time with Jon every time he tried to dodge past the boy. "Sansa could get in trouble!" he called out as Jon managed to push past and ran for the steps. He took them two at a time, Rickon calling after him. "Only guardians and the priests are allowed in the Summoner's temple!"

Ignoring the boy, Jon darted among the crowds of people bustling in the courtyard. He recognised the trees of a Godswood ahead and jogged towards them, figuring they would lead to the gardens. Running towards the entrance, he glanced over his shoulder and noticed Rickon was no longer following him. Most likely he had gone to tell Arya what Jon was doing. The thought made Jon grimace slightly. In the short time he had known Arya and Rickon, he had gathered that Arya was not someone that should be angered.

But there was a woman trapped in there from what he could make out. And what kind of place would leave her trapped like that? Surely, someone must be bothered by this? Why weren't her sister and brother doing anything to help her? So, it was against the customs or the teachings or whatever Rickon and Arya had talked about. But to Jon, the idea of someone left to rot was not something he could abide by, religious teachings be damned.

He spotted the temple ahead, a tall seven-sided sandstone building. He hopped up the steps, nodding in greeting at the guards who raised their eyebrows at him as he approached the door. The door creaked as he pushed it over, stepping inside the cold room. Marble statues greeted him and he paused as he approached one that was near another door at the back of the temple. The man looked solemn, his hands clasped upon a large broadsword as he looked contemplatively ahead. Jon's eyes flickered down to the words engraved at the bottom.

_Ned Stark._

_High Summoner of Riverrun._

_Defeated the Night King 1153 AC._

Jon frowned, eyes flickering back up to the face of Ned Stark. How could Arya and the others be talking about the Night King if Ned Stark had apparently defeated him already? If Arya didn't kill him for running off after her sister, he would need to ask her for an explanation.

He turned away from the statue, glancing around for any sign of where the summoner could be. And then his gaze moved to the door to his left once more and, figuring it was the only place they could be, he approached it. He was surprised that it opened so easily but the creak alerted the guards who turned towards the sound. Jon darted inside the door, slamming it shut and pressing a palm against the wood.

"Who in the seven hells are you?"

He jumped, whirling around at the voice. Behind him stood a tall, muscled man, his auburn curls falling into his eyes as they narrowed suspiciously upon Jon. His arms were folded as his gaze raked over Jon's form slowly from head to toe. A blonde woman, taller even than the man, stood up beside him, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword threateningly. 

"I, uh, I heard the summoner was trapped," he explained.

"Only guardians can enter in here," the woman said coldly, shaking her head in disapproval.

"I know. I mean, I got told that," Jon replied, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I got too close to the Night King and it has messed everything up." He gestured to his head in silent explanation. The man's expression changed then, his blue eyes becoming softer and his arms unfolding.

The door behind Jon suddenly opened, hitting his back and sending him stumbling across the floor. He straightened himself and turned to glare at the person who had hit him. Gendry gave a sheepish grin and an apologetic lift of his hand as he shut the door behind him.

"Sorry Robb, Brienne," he whispered before turning to Jon. "Rickon told me you were coming here."

"Sansa will be the one to suffer the consequences!" Brienne snapped, turning her glare onto Gendry, who held his hands up in surrender.

"I know Brienne," he stated simply, slowly lowering his hands. "I explained the situation to the folks outside. They won't punish Sansa for the fact he is suffering from the toxin."

Brienne's lips pulled into a thin line, her disapproving look never leaving her face until the oak door behind her opened with a slow, heavy creak. Jon blinked, stepping forward slightly as a figure appeared in the doorway.

The woman braced a hand on the side of the door, the light from the lanterns catching in her hair and making it shine like copper. She smiled warmly at Robb and Brienne, her free hand rising to press against her chest.

"I have done it," she whispered, shaking the hair from her face. "I have become a summoner."

She moved to take a step forward, her body hunching over at the movement. Immediately, Robb raced up the stairs and grabbed her under the arms to help her upright again. She smiled at him and took the handkerchief that Brienne offered her when the woman stepped beside her as well.

"Thank you for waiting," she whispered, as she wiped her forehead. "It was so stuffy in there, I hope I can sneak away from the celebrations early for a long bath."

"I'll make sure that you do," Robb responded, squeezing his arm around her shoulder. "Come on, lets go and show everyone your aeon!"

Jon moved awkwardly to the side, his eyes following the woman as she was led out by Brienne and Robb flanking either side of her. Gendry stepped up to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, so please don't do this again," he chuckled, shaking him affectionately. Jon flushed, sighing at his embarrassing impulsiveness.

"I won't," he promised, letting Gendry lead him back out of the temple. 

In the gardens, a crowd had gathered and surrounded the woman. Sansa, he recalled Arya calling her. A pretty name he mused. It suited her and her pretty face and her laugh like a song. He approached the edge of the crowd slowly and recognised Rickon running into the middle and clutching Sansa's hand. He started jumping up and down excitedly, joining in the chants of the crowd.

Sansa nodded at her brother, nudging him gently to get him to move away and he did so, running to stand between Robb and Arya. He shot Arya a sheepish smile when she glanced over at him but he felt it die immediately at the look of disappointment and anger on her face. Shuffling his feet awkwardly, he focused his gaze on Sansa once more.

She reached back to grasp the staff attached in a harness on her back. Turning to stand side on, she stretched one arm in front of her and the other behind, her staff held firm between her hands. Almost immediately, balls of light started to surround her, colliding together until a shape began to form beside her. Gendry smirked at Jon and he figured that he must look like an idiot as he watched the wolf take shape with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

"I named her Lady," Sansa declared as the wolf circled her protectively and nudged her head against Sansa's hip. It looked so real, Jon thought in awe.

"She's pretty eh?" Gendry commented, mistaking Jon's awe for the wolf as admiration for Sansa's beauty. He grunted, shrugging slightly.

"Yeah, she is," he agreed, seeing no point in denying the obvious. Gendry chuckled.

"Don't be getting any ideas," he said, nudging Jon's shoulder. Jon grinned back at him, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"Why? Have you got your eye on her?"

"No," Gendry snorted, his eyes flickering over to Arya and a soft smile tugging at his mouth. "I have my eyes on another Stark girl." He shook himself from whatever thoughts of Arya had entered his mind and fixed his stare on Jon once more. "No, it is best if Sansa doesn't get involved with anyone while she is on her pilgrimage."

"Alright," Jon agreed, giving another shrug. "I wasn't going to do anything anyway." He jerked his head towards Robb with a smirk. "I don't really want to go against him anyway."

Gendry barked out a laugh and clapped Jon's shoulders in mirth. The sound of his amusement caused several heads to turn towards them, including Sansa's. Her blue eyes pinned him in place as he met her gaze and he had to look down at his feet after a few seconds, unused to such attentions on him. He only looked up when he noticed the dark blue hem of her dress and the grey tip of her boots come into his vision.

"They told me what you did," she said, her pretty smile widening as Jon felt his cheeks flush.

"Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I didn't know anything about what was going on and I thought...anyway, I was a fool."

"It was sweet," she assured him, her hands clasping together in front of him. "I should call you Florian."

"I suppose it is a little more exciting than Jon."

"Jon," she repeated and Jon ducked his head again in embarrassment at how well it sounded rolling off her tongue.

"Sans," Robb murmured gently, stepping up beside her. She turned to her brother with a warm smile.

"I'm coming," she assured him. He nodded, giving another brief nod in Jon's direction before turning to leave. Sansa shifted slightly, her teeth biting her lip awkwardly. "Well, um, it was nice to meet you, Jon. I do need to go and rest for the journey tomorrow. Perhaps we can talk more on the ship?"

"Ship?"

"Are you not coming to Highgarden with us?" she questioned, her head tilting cutely to the side. Jon hummed slightly, giving her a short nod.

"Yeah, right. Sorry, I didn't realise we would be on the same ship," he replied. He cleared his throat as she continued to watch him silently and then managing to muster a smile he continued. "I'll see you tomorrow then." And then, recalling that Arya had been called a lady he hastily added "My Lady."

"Goodnight," she replied, her teasing smile back in place as she turned to leave. "Florian."


End file.
